Romance Drabbles
by Stephane Richer
Summary: a collection of romantic Kuroko no Basuke drabbles, originally posted on tumblr. Various characters, pairings, ratings, genres and themes
1. Chapter 1

Romance Drabbles

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Author's Note: I decided to try a new thing and write drabbles. These are the romantic ones I posted in September; presumably I'll keep doing them and update every month.

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1. Burning (Hayama/Nakatani, 387 wds, M)

Nakatani watches the court, watches his team, tries to figure out a strategy—but his eyes are drawn to one player in particular like moths to a burning lamp. Hayama Kotarou and his kerosene eyes, the less-than-half-crazed mouth, the way his body is moving with a wicked grace—they should really turn the heat down in this building. Nakatani feels the sweat trickle down his forehead and his temples and the base of his hair, falling down his neck and into the crevasses in his ear. He's losing focus, losing sight of the game, eyes caught up in Hayama's dribble—Nakatani feels like he might faint.

His throat is dry; he needs water, feebly signaling for one of the bench players to get him a bottle and distractedly handing the kid the clipboard because he can't open the bottle with one hand. He drains it, chugging it in one gulp, and those eyes have found his and almost leer at him from the other side of the court, and now they do not leave his even as Hayama moves. He does not need to look at targets to shoot or pass or steal or know when the ball is coming to him.

After the game, Hayama corners him. He's alone; he still has that flaming honey look and his mouth is burning, open sweet and spicy and hot on Nakatani's lips and flesh. Nakatani half-wonders if he's leaving cauterized wounds as Hayama's mouth moves down his jaw and neck. Hayama reaches under his shirt and claws at his hips and Nakatani can't really do anything. Hayama doesn't want him to do anything, because Hayama is wildfire and Nakatani is a grove of trees, rooted to the spot, forced to crumble under Hayama's slick, relentless heat. Hayama flips him over and fucks him against the brick wall, rough edges scraping against Nakatani's chin and neck as he winces and pulls his head back, fingertips scrabbling for some indent to hold onto and finding nothing. Someone could find them here, say something, see them—but it doesn't happen.

Nakatani goes home alone on the train that night. A hand rubs absentmindedly against his throat, feeling the newly-formed scabs, the only reminder, the only proof that anything had happened at all. The skin is hot where he touches it.

* * *

2. Precious (Kiyoshi/Furihata, 205 wds, K+)

The way he smiles softly, cautiously, a flickering expression—that is the way Furihata normally smiles, always indecisive, always unsure of whether he should be smiling or not and worrying about the next bad thing that's going to come after him. He lets Kiyoshi kiss him but when they part the smiling is always awkward and afraid of when Kiyoshi is going to stop wanting to kiss him, and Kiyoshi can't help but hate himself just a little bit (because if he's really what Furihata wants and needs, then Furihata won't have to ever worry that Kiyoshi will stop loving him; the thought never need cross his mind).

Sometimes, though, Furihata bares everything, all that is in his trembling soul, blinks up at Kiyoshi and lives in the moments and gives him a smile that's full and pure and wanton all at once, and it's the most precious thing to Kiyoshi; he will die to protect that smile's existence, will do anything just to know that it will even once more grace Furihata's lovely face (because when Furihata worries, even if it's about something irrational or that others would consider trivial, Kiyoshi worries, too; he shares that burden to ease it from Furihata's aching shoulders).

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3. Desecrate (Kagami/Himuro, 568 wds, M)

The rings chained around your necks are choking both of you, pulling you so far down, the weight of bonds long since dissolved and reformed over and over and over again until the original bonds might not have been formed in the first place were it not for the heavy reminder that you were once—no, are—brothers, that brothers do not do this, that you are desecrating the most sacred of bonds, the familial ties of a chosen sort—it would be easy to say that you do not care. You can pretend all you want under light kisses and touches and feelings and fantasies that remain in your imagination. You can dress it in pretty wrapping and call it just a complex, some latent thing disguising itself as lust. But it's hard to say that you just really admire your brother a lot, that you're proud of him and that you cherish him in a certain way and only that certain way—it's awfully hard to say that with a straight face when you're in your brother's bed with his cock in your mouth and you're rock-hard, too, and his toned thighs are beneath your fingers and his voice, a voice that you cannot wholly convince yourself is someone other than his (you've tried, to see if it would make your head accept this for what it is) is making clear sounds of pleasure.

This is something more, something raw and ugly and all-consuming and mind-numbingly amazing at the same time, like freezer burn maybe. It's hot and cold and neither and both, all at once and it's indescribable. Your fingers are slipping on his legs from the sweat and you can feel the way he's throbbing against the roof of your mouth and his hands are on your face and that sensitive spot where your neck meets your jaw and your tongue is almost lolling but you have to keep it moving somewhat-steadily. This is not pure or lovely, but these bonds are fire-forged and these bonds will last longer than the delicate bonds you adopted so young, that you perhaps were not ready for (that you would never be ready for), the relationship to which you gave a false name because brotherhood was the highest bond you knew back in those days.

He rocks his hips, shaky and jerky as he comes into your mouth and you swallow and let your mouth open and his cock slip out as you grind your hips against his leg and whine without realizing that your throat wants anything at all. His palms are pressed against your face, still, fingers half-flexed away from you but knuckles clenched against themselves, and his back is arched and his knee is at the perfect angle. His hair, usually so perfect at staying in place, is messy, you realize as you sit up and look at his face and the sweat dripping from his forehead. He is gorgeous, and he is yours. You cup his face in your hand and he opens his eyes, peers out through hazy lashes and half-lids and he smiles, open and loving, and it's just like you were ten and eleven only not. It's not the same; it will never be the same.

You smile back broadly and kiss him full-on, without wondering how or why the weight dragging down your neck seems to have lessened somehow.

* * *

4. June (Imayoshi/Susa, 316 wds, K+)

Susa flicks the lighter in time with the crickets chirping, letting the flame flicker and dance like a spinning drunk kid who's never had alcohol before and has no concept whatsoever of limits, finally falling. He keeps staring at the ghost of a ghost of overheated air, the silver tip of the lighter barely shining from the weak light sources from the outside. Shouichi's hand covers his, taps it. Susa flicks; Shouichi lights a cigarette. The faint smell of tobacco and cherries fills the air.

The crickets drone. Susa looks at the sky, stars hiding behind a thin sheen of clouds, although the indigo sky does show itself in patches. He squints at a light—that's moving and blinking; it's an airplane. Shouichi stubs the cigarette out and lies with his head in Susa's lap. He's like a cat sometimes, just doing whatever he wants—but cats are pretty dumb and Shouichi's definitely not stupid. He's illogical and can get passive-aggressive, but he's not stupid. Susa runs his fingers through Shouichi's wild black hair, combing out a multitude of tangles. Shouichi winces.

"You're hurting me," he says, sticking out his lower lip. The way he acts like an innocent, sensitive child sometimes is more than a quirk. Susa will never let him know how endearing it is (for it is just as endearing as it is annoying) so he rolls his eyes and sighs and stops moving his hand.

Shouichi frowns and opens his eyes a fraction. "I didn't tell you to stop."

Susa smiles. "Of course you didn't."

His hand begins to move again through Shouichi's hair, and Shouichi's eyes close again and he smirks. Of course he already knows how adorable he is; it's written in his smug expression.

Still, his hair is quite the mess of knots. "Do you even use any conditioner?"

Shouichi just laughs. The sound is dissonant against the crickets.

* * *

5. Graceful (Imayoshi/Aomine, 224 wds, M)

The way Aomine moves on the court is graceful and natural, "formless" they call it, but Imayoshi knows better. Arms folded across the name of the school that weighs heavy and the number four that weighs heavier across his slight frame, he watches Aomine tirelessly and endlessly play. He's got such good form that it only seems formless, wrapping around on itself and becoming the opposite. He is truly amazing, gracefully relentless in his purest form.

In bed, he's anything but graceful, clunking his knee against the wall and wincing, yelling sharply, breath hard and erratic and wild in a whole different way. His arms shove roughly against Imayoshi as Imayoshi pins him down, bites Aomine on the shoulder and knows how he winces and struggles and flails and attempts to dominate. It's all in vain, and eventually he stills enough for Imayoshi to actually enter him, and he's so tight and his legs are half-kicking but he's getting used to the feeling already. He whines and soon he's begging Imayoshi to go harder and faster and his jaw is clenched and his body quivers and Imayoshi would be lying if he says he doesn't revel in the sight (and lying is bad!) but it is not graceful or smooth the way he thrusts his hips and arches his back and grunts Imayoshi's name.

* * *

6. Tradition (Hanamiya/Nebuya, 532 wds, M)

It's tradition that all five of them meet up like this once a year—a tradition started by either Reo or Kiyoshi, and readily agreed to by Hayama. They wouldn't go if they could avoid it; Nebuya forgets about it every year but then without fail Reo will know that and show up at his door and press the doorbell with his giant fake nail again and again until Nebuya wakes up and opens the door.

Hayama's the only one who plays basketball anymore (Kiyoshi can't; Makoto won't; Reo just doesn't; Nebuya is somehow a mix of all three); he's in the NBA and famous for his temper and erratic behavior even more than he is for his basketball skills. He's famous, signs autographs for fans as they sit in the café, Nebuya and Makoto with matching scowls on their faces. Makoto's hand is like a clawing vice on Nebuya's leg, inching upward gradually until they both get impatient and Makoto finishes his inner battle between pleasing Nebuya (which he doesn't want to do) and pleasing himself, and he puts himself first so he starts groping Nebuya through his pants as Kiyoshi and Hayama yammer on about dumb shit that doesn't matter to either of them and Reo is listening, totally enraptured.

Nebuya abruptly pulls away and stands up, waking off in the direction of the men's room. Makoto follows. It doesn't matter if the others notice, because either way they won't say anything and they don't really enjoy their company or need it. Nebuya and Makoto showing up is just part of the tradition, another farcical element of this "uncrowned kings' reunion". Why do they need to be reminded of what they almost were, in a time so very long ago it seems like different people experienced those moments, played those games? Why do they strengthen the ties that should not bind them, renewing them year after year?

Makoto jerks him off rough and uneven in the bathroom stall and Nebuya chomps down on Makoto's hand in his mouth. It costs him (it always does); Makoto doesn't finish him but instead shoves him down on his knees and Nebuya sucks Makoto off, cutting straight to the chase and jerking himself off, too. Makoto growls, low and almost undetectable but still angry and irritated but ultimately indecisive, unsure of whether he wants Nebuya to suck him off or whether he wants to punish him more—and that, too, is tradition, and so is Nebuya spitting come into the toilet and both of them exiting separately from the bathroom stall, Makoto first, and by the time Nebuya reaches the table Makoto's left the restaurant.

It's tradition, too, that Nebuya pays for Makoto's coffee and half-eaten plate of macaroons (and finishes off the cookies, too, while he's at it, both because he's hungry again and so he can avoid talking to these people) and that Kiyoshi always says they should hang out more and Nebuya always gives a noncommittal shrug which means I'm too wishy-washy to tell you no. And it's tradition that the next time Nebuya jerks off he thinks of Makoto's calloused yet delicate palm and razor sharp nails on his cock.

* * *

7. Hemiola (Midorima/Akashi, 189 wds, K+)

"Shintarou, do you know how this type of dance goes?"

Midorima has absentmindedly been tapping his foot to the beat of his favorite recording of Mozart minuet for piano while reading the paper, and it takes a few seconds for Akashi's words to register. "No," he says, and then glances back at the movie reviews. None of them look interesting.

Of course, he should know that since this is Akashi the question is not meaningless. The warm pressure of Akashi's fingers on his right hand cause him to look up again. A smirk plays on Akashi's lips as he pulls Midorima to his feet as if Midorima is a weightless doll, not a man fifteen kilograms heavier than Akashi. Akashi clasps his hand almost roughly to stop Midorima's flinching reflex and the automatic withdrawal of his hands. Akashi leads him around to the music, pressing his body closer and closer and slowing his movements down to once every two beats.

"Can you feel the hemiola, Shintarou?" Akashi whispers in his ear, breath hot on his neck.

Midorima is quite sure they didn't dance like this in the eighteenth century.

* * *

8. Morning (Nijimura/Haizaki, 169 wds, K+)

The morning was chilling, down to the bone. Four AM and you needed to get to your first job, the early shift at the gas station. His arm was a hair's breadth from yours but not touching it, palms upward, the underside of the arms revealing the tattoo of a mangled, demented-looking angel. You moved slowly, silently, stealthily and he did not awaken. Several times, his breath hitched but he did not stir or open his eyes, and his breathing returned to normal soon afterward. Why did you feel like some creepy runaway scum, then, as you decided to forgo your morning shave, to wait and use the school bathroom, because you did not want to say even a temporary goodbye? You were never good at parting, always tried to drag it out and suck everything dry. It's not yet quarter past four as you shut the door behind you, turning the knob so the click of the lock is as nonexistent as possible.

He never calls you back.

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9. Forever (Imayoshi/Susa, 133 wds, T)

Susa could probably spend forever thinking of new ways to pleasure Imayoshi in bed. Well, strictly speaking that's probably not true, because he'd want to spend some of that forever actually implementing these methods. Because thinking about Imayoshi's eyes half-open and his firm, warm thighs pressed against Susa's torso and his hands clawing at Susa's back with their long nails like miniature serrated steak knives leaving paper cuts in their wake is completely different than seeing and feeling it. His imagination pales in comparison to reality, after all, and besides no matter how sure he is that Imayoshi will react a certain way to a finger here or a kiss placed there, he's wrong at least half the time. Still, the responses are almost always good, and the unexpectedness is its own reward.

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10. Louder (Aomine/Murasakibara, 511 wds, T)

Aomine Daiki considers himself a man of action, something that for some reason Satsuki found so funny when he'd said it the first time that she'd been unable to stand for about fifteen minutes while he'd scowled and yelled (probably, he realizes now, not the best way to defend his claim). Still, he knows he's no good with words, other than a choice few phrases. But that's life, really—a few phrases mixed in with sleep and basketball, and he's good to go.

Though he will never concede out loud that someone can beat him at his own games, Aomine knows that Murasakibara Atsushi is at least a close second to him in this lifestyle—he eats, he sleeps, he plays basketball, and he rarely speaks—he's much quieter than Aomine, unless he's mad, which isn't very often. He doesn't really have the energy to be mad with any regularity (it must be the fact that he runs on empty carbohydrates, and even that notwithstanding he can't possibly be getting enough calories for his 210-centimeter body to run optimally.

Sexually, they should be incompatible. Aomine wants to go harder, faster, has endless energy from which to draw from, and Murasakibara's such a lazy guy—but even he can rise to the occasion, push back forcefully, battle Aomine for dominance. Aomine's never been reminded of how much _larger_Murasakibara is more than when they have sex, when Murasakibara's heavy body is on top of his, when Murasakibara's long torso and eight-pack and insane forearms are bared to him, when those long legs are wrapped around him (they could probably fit twice around his torso) and he could spend hours groping that ass if Murasakibara didn't decide on a whim that now they were going to skip any foreplay and exploration and they were going to get off right now. They fight about it, sure, but regardless of how things unfold, they're both still pretty satisfied with the end result.

Murasakibara's smarter than a lot of people give him credit for, manages to get good grades while barely studying and is able to figure out basketball plays within a few seconds. He surrounds himself with the right kind of people, people who will motivate him and make him do the stuff he positively does not want to but he knows he has to. Aomine is not one of those people, and maybe that's why he stays. He knows there's no pressure. He also knows that Aomine's not the kind of guy who will really enjoy any kind of pillow talk, and that hanging all over him is probably pushing it a bit (of course, that doesn't stop him at all from doing the latter, although doing it to everybody makes Aomine insanely jealous). But in the end, he does what he wants and leaves Aomine to respond however he wants, and sometimes when he spoons Aomine in the midst of the messy afterglow Aomine grabs his arms and pulls them close to his chest, because that says _stay_ better than his mouth can.


	2. Chapter 2

Romance Drabbles Part 2

Author's Note: I realized I would probably not have the patience to go through a month's worth of drabbles if I keep writing at this pace, so...schedule shift to weekly for now.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

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11. Fruit (Murasakibara Atsushi/fem!Midorima Shintarou, 459 wds, K+)

She claims to dislike sweet things; she gives him chocolate on Valentine's day with a flurry of excuses, such as it was her lucky item the other day (not true; he knows them all, from the bottle-opener key chain to the pink tote bag to the stuffed walrus) and that it totally doesn't mean she likes him or anything. He kisses her anyway, fists his hand through her thick green hair and knocks her glasses askew. She rises to her tiptoes, intimidated by the way he towers over her, even though she's the tallest girl in the class by at least fifteen centimeters. She is not soft and petite and delicate, like the other girls (who either are like that or convincingly pretend to be so) who giggle and wink; she tries her hardest to project an image of strength and utter unapproachability. They say things about her that intend hurt her, although she has long since developed a thick skin and good enough sense to not ever let them see her sweat. They say that she's really a man (no real girl would be this tall or strong), that she's a freak whatever she is, that even if she tried to act like other girls it would just be some horrible and insulting imitation, something crude. So she emphasizes her lack of feminine cuteness, staring longingly at boxes of pocky and cans of red bean soup as she sips her unsweetened oolong tea and hides today's lucky item deep in the bottom of her bag because it's a teddy bear cell phone strap and she's not cute enough for it to look good on her flip phone.

Someday, she's going to realize (and she has to on her own) that they'll never be satisfied with who she pretends to be, that they're not going to leave her alone unless she's truly comfortable with herself—even with the glaring, self-assured façade she puts on it's easy to find the weak spots. All he can do is inch her along, drop by the classroom and feed her sweet fruit, peaches and berries and plums and oranges, dividing them up into slices so that they can share. These she accepts, acting ungrateful and haughty, but almost screaming when he puts his fingers into her mouth to lick off the sticky juice. People will talk, she hisses, and this is a classroom and you shouldn't be so lewd, but it's worth it because she's so pretty when she's embarrassed and she's not really mad at him because she says it might be okay to do it once in a while in private, even though she really doesn't like the taste of fruit because it's too sweet and she doesn't eat sweet things.

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12. Acceptance (Ootsubo Taisuke/Miyaji Kiyoshi, 324 wds, T)

Taisuke rolls his eyes whenever Kiyoshi calls him captain, because seriously they're friends aren't they? Kiyoshi has no reason to show him deference, or mock-deference for that matter. So why anyway? Kiyoshi turns his head down, using his lack of height (well, compared to Taisuke) to his advantage and mutters something about how Taisuke's not going to let it get to his head.

Still, Taisuke prides himself on being able to read people but he's not sure quite what's been going on with Kiyoshi lately. After a long period of thinking, knitting to keep his hands busy and not realizing just how long the scarf he's knit has become, and coming to no conclusions other than the fact that he needs more red yarn, he asks Shinsuke.

Shinsuke pats him on the shoulder and says, "I thought it was obvious. Kiyoshi likes you."

Oh. Taisuke can't help but feel his cheeks heat up at the notion, and although he hasn't concretely phrased his feelings—he has been thinking a lot about Kiyoshi lately, hasn't he? He's been thinking way more about the guy than he has about anyone else, any of his other friends or teammates, and in a different way. He _needs_ to know what's on Kiyoshi's mind, _needs_ to discern what he means, how he feels—it's all becoming clearer to him now.

"Thanks, Shinsuke."

"Hey, no problem, man," Shinsuke says, shoving Taisuke off the bench. "Now go get him, okay? I'm sick of his whole sighing-and-pining routine."

It's a good thing Kiyoshi's not here at this particular moment, because Taisuke is quite sure a pineapple would come hurtling toward them if that were the case.

Taisuke kisses Kiyoshi, half-aggressive and half-inquisitive, waiting to see how he responds. Kiyoshi's the first to deepen the kiss but also the first to pull away.

"Bastard captain," he mutters under his breath before he leans up and kisses Taisuke. "I wanted to be first."

* * *

13. Bright (Nakatani Masaaki/Alexandra Garcia, 252 wds, T)

He knows he's seen her somewhere before—his immediate thought is that she was once a model, because staring at her straight back and long blonde hair and the way she walks so confidently in high heels even though she's so tall (probably as tall as he is)—and those legs go on for miles and miles. He asks her, something he wouldn't do on an ordinary day, but today he's had a little too much champagne (Kimura's mother had absolutely insisted that he and the boys all take a bottle each, even as he protested that it was third place and some of the younger ones, Takao in particular, shouldn't be drinking, although in the end he'd acquiesced) and he actually feels kind of giddy, still holding onto some of that afterglow, even though it was a runoff game against a team without its best player.

She turns around and he's blinded by her smile, so bright it casts away the shadows of the cold winter evening. He almost can't move.

It turns out she's not a model per se, although she's done it a few times in the past. She's a basketball player, too, she says, and then it all clicks together. She recognizes him, too; she says she's always admired his ability to keep cool and that she tended to get a little too fired up, even as a pro. They share a laugh. Her smile is still dazzling; he begins to think that it will never burn out.

* * *

14. Illusion (Kise Ryouta/Midorima Shintarou, 119 wds, K+)

The light from the paper lantern flickers, and on the wall their shadows seem to dance, or at least that's what it seems like from Kise's half-closed eyes when he's lying on the futon. Truthfully, their bodies together form a kind of lumpy shadow now, when they're just lying next to each other, but if you're being romantic (and, Kise supposes, he has to be romantic enough for the both of them given the situation) it looks as if they're dancing.

"We're dancing, Midorimacchi."

Midorima is probably closer to sleep than Kise, and he grumbles something unintelligible (probably along the lines of "what the hell are you talking about?" although Kise will imagine it's "yes; I love the foxtrot").

* * *

15. Sunshine (Kimura Shinsuke/Ootsubo Taisuke, 243 wds, K)

The first time they met, it was sunny out, early spring, the opening ceremony. Truthfully, Kimura doesn't remember all that much about that day—he'd grabbed an apple on the way out and made sure to correctly button his uniform, but he cannot recall what route he took to get there. Somehow, he ended up crossing paths with an incredibly chatty guy who introduced himself as Ootsubo.

Kimura had been surprised to meet someone taller than him this quickly, though Shutoku has always been known for its exemplary basketball program. Still, this guy was larger than life, and he and Kimura were already fast friends by the time they reached the school grounds.

Of course, their paths diverged after that—Kimura played on the second string and Ootsubo the first; they were in different classes and travelled in different circles. They managed to say hi in the hallways and during practice, though, and the thought of being with Ootsubo—playing basketball with him, supporting that confident style somehow—that was what spurred Kimura on when the workouts got a little too tough and demanding and it seemed like he'd never get better at rebounding.

Now, they stand hand in hand. Kimura can't recall exactly how they finally got together, how many "accidental" touches or lingering looks or offhand comments it took before their lips met and they clutched each other's shaking, nervous bodies—but he remembers that that, too, was a sunny day.

* * *

16. Soft (Murasakibara Atsushi/Himuro Tatsuya, 172 wds, K+)

Nothing about Muro-chin is soft. His hips jut out sharply; his palms are rough; his gaze is steely; his legs are firm; his will is strong. He is delicate, yes, the way his hair faintly turns up at the end and some of the gestures he makes, the intricate details he puts into his words, into his basketball.

Atsushi is drawn to him anyway, even though he loves softness and warmth, pillows and sleeping and fleece jackets, and he always overdoes it on the fabric softener when he does his laundry but he doesn't care because it's so soft and feels so nice.

Muro-chin feels nice even though he's not soft, because he's gentle and kind anyway, even though sometimes he's selfish and unreasonable—Atsushi knows he's like that too much, so it's only fair for others to get their chance. No one's perfect, after all. Muro-chin won't really get it if he says this, though, so Atsushi just hugs him tighter and lets Muro-chin's hips and nails dig into his skin.

* * *

17. Ice (Susa Yoshinori/Imayoshi Shouichi, 363 wds, K+)

Of course Shouichi's good at ice skating. Why wouldn't he be? He's an athlete, for starters, and he's always had great balance. He understands thing well, too, picks up on the subtleties that no one else looks for, and he's a quick learner. So of course he can skate circles around Yoshinori, and he does it with that typical malicious glee on his face. Yoshinori's not a bad skater per se, but he's not all that good, either. He's decent, but rather slow, and he can't go backwards or make super crazy manipulations. It would be nice if Shouichi would just pretend to suck for a while so that Yoshinori could pull him along romantically, but…for some reason he won't.

Yoshinori leans on the side of the ice rink. A mother moves past with her young son, both of them wobbling but managing to make their way around the place. Yoshinori's left ankle is already aching, and he bends down to rub it and scowls. He's standing back up when a spray of miniature ice flakes hits him in the face. Shouichi grins at him, arms crossed, weight shifting from one leg to the other. "Tired?"

He grabs Yoshinori's hands in his and starts to pull him along, skating gently backwards. Yoshinori resolves to not tell him when he's about to run into someone, even if it means (and it certainly will, knowing Shouichi) that he'll get pulled down, too. Shouichi starts to go faster, and even though Yoshinori's probably not in any real danger he struggles to keep from panicking. They've been going around in a circle, but Shouichi decides to keep on going straight, though the path is relatively unobstructed. The wall grows nearer; Yoshinori says nothing.

Shouichi crashes against the wall and the momentum presses Yoshinori's body up against his, and when he starts to move backward and almost fall, Shouichi catches him, stops him from going any further than he is, which as of now is about five centimeters away from Shouichi.

Their mouths meet, and then Shouichi comes off the wall, meeting his body with Yoshinori's again, and this is better than skating around the ice any day.

* * *

18. Bed (Aomine Daiki/Murasakibara Atsushi, 425 wds, M)

Aomine likes to sleep as much as the next guy; hell, he likes to sleep more than the next guy. It's a suitable alternative to pretty much everything. Sleep is even more fun when it's after a vigorous round of sex and he's sprawled out with his hands still tangled in his lover's hands or hair, or at least in some way keeping in contact with warm skin. The thing about Murasakibara is that he keeps too close, likes to cuddle up to Aomine, practically engulf him (Aomine doesn't usually get much of a chance to feel small, but this makes him feel miniature) in his thick, long arms and his strong, muscled legs, and the sweat on his neck and chest doesn't even have time to dry and he feels like he's going to overheat when he's supposed to be cooling down. If he does manage to kick Murasakibara off of him while he settles into sleep, he'll wake up with his face pressed awkwardly against Murasakibara's shoulder, drooling on his neck (which he doesn't give a shit about) and matted purple hair denting his forehead. He tries to pull away but Murasakibara is too stubborn.

"Mine-chin needs to stay put," he'll say, as if Aomine is some kind of stubborn puppy or naughty child. Aomine resists, but he's still too sleepy to fight right now, and now he's way too used to it to be able to comfortably sleep alone. He's on the roof and the weight of the porn magazine or empty food container is not enough, not nearly enough to mimic the pressure of a larger body. The sun is too directly on top of him; the wind does not stir against him in the same way.

Sometimes he tries to go for sex when they wake up and he's especially refreshed, but Murasakibara won't have any of that either. He starts running his hands up and down Murasakibara's thighs and kissing his neck and Murasakibara sighs because he's too tired right now. He sleeps even more than Aomine does, and he's always tired and lazy and half-asleep, and he's got those extreme half-closed bedroom eyes all the time and he only kind of half-realizes what he's doing to Aomine sometimes (sometimes he uses it to his advantage, but those occasions are mercifully rare). Murasakibara clicks his tongue and clutches Aomine closer so he can't move and kisses him on the forehead and then just goes back to sleep, leaving Aomine half-hard and unable to do a damn thing about it.

* * *

19. Frail (Murasakibara Atsushi/Araki Masako, 218, K+)

_It's not okay to make a move_, Muro-chin had told him, _until a year and a day after you graduate. Can you wait that long?_

At the time it had seemed like an eternity, although there were more pressing things than grace periods on his mind, like how Muro-chin had even figured it out and whether he should go to sleep or eat a box of pocky or do some of his homework. But he had nodded and trusted Muro-chin because he always knew about these kinds of things and held his feelings inside.

He wondered if they'd disappear. He hadn't seen her at all since he graduated, but still thought of her often, thought of her fondly. He's not one to overanalyze his feelings and try and dismiss them as frail or trivial or decide that they fit in a certain category, so the time has not made him doubt the legitimacy of his longing. Whether it's love, infatuation, lust, admiration—he doesn't know yet. It will sort itself out with time.

Akita has not changed much in a year. He has not expected it to.

She has not changed much, either. She stands, leaning against the wall, clipboard in hand. She's waiting for him. Something not entirely unlike a smile plays on her lips. "Murasakibara."

"Masako-chin."

* * *

20. Holiday (Kobori Kouji/Nakamura Shinya, 297 wds, K)

Nakamura's like a butterfly, fluttering away, impossible to pin down. He shows up to practice and stays late practicing his shot, using every pointer Coach gives him—and still the ball bounces off the rim, off the backboard and straight back into his hands or to the floor. It's adorable and endearing how hard he tries and Kobori really wishes he could help, because the few times the ball does go in it's impossible to erase the small but brilliant smile from Nakamura's face. But other than practice and immediately afterward, it's impossible to find him in the halls or in his classroom. He's very quiet, but when he's there he can be seen—it's impossible to miss those eyebrows and that serious pouty expression that's almost always on his face.

Still, when Kobori asks, by texting him or somehow catching him, Nakamura always gives him time. He always gets that smile like he's just made a shot and blushes faintly. Their time together is limited, and as a result their relationship moves very slowly—they don't travel in the same circles (Kobori sticks with the other starting members; Nakamura has a few buddies from his class) and even in the basketball club their duties are quite separate and they don't ever come into much contact.

Their dates are like mini-holidays, breaks from their stupid reality when they can just relax and be themselves. They don't talk about basketball much, or school in general. They're sick of both of them by now. Still, when they go to the temple, Kobori grasps Nakamura's hands tightly and squeezes his eyes shut, wishing for these hands to be able to release a rubber ball more steadily and consistently, for the ball to fall through the hoop with a serene grace.

* * *

21. Gray (Susa Yoshinori/Imayoshi Shouichi, 163 wds, K+)

Why did they get an apartment on the forty-third floor of an insanely tall high rise? When the fog rolls in, the windows are engulfed in the gray and they cannot see out of the bedroom windows, or the living room, mist lapping up against the screens and seeping in, cold and wet, until they shut the glass and let the water condense against it from the inside, such that it is impossible to draw things in the frost—not that it stops Shouichi from trying every time. (His depth perception sucks, even with glasses.)

"What if I dropped you out the window?" Shouichi asks casually, stabbing at his breakfast with his chopsticks. "Would you vanish from existence, Yoshinori-kun?"

What a thing to say. Yoshinori shrugs. "Please don't say that with such a smile on your face."

"Are you implying that I'd do it?"

Yoshinori snorts. "No, I'm saying directly that you'd do it."

A chopstick taps his palm. "I wouldn't, you know."


	3. Chapter 3

Romance Drabbles Part 3

Disclaimer: Don't own.

* * *

22. Smile (Aomine Daiki/Midorima Shintarou, 269 wds, T)

Aomine pokes Midorima's cheek, eliciting a deeper scowl. Normally, that's the surefire last resort that makes even the grouchiest, most resistant object of his affections smile or laugh, but not this guy. He just won't smile, hasn't smiled even once on any of their dates. He doesn't smile during sex (though his facial expressions are pretty fucking hot and he definitely seems to be experiencing pleasure, they're not smiles) or even afterward. He just lies there limply when Aomine tries to spoon him. It's kind of hard to do considering the guy has five or six centimeters and a few kilograms on him.

Does he even know how to smile? Aomine's known him for a long time, come to think of it, and he can't ever recall seeing Midorima smile. Still, Kise had said something about seeing him smile once, so he can. He has. He just won't.

If he doesn't like this that much, why is he still here? Is he that bored? It's always Aomine who instigates things, starts the text conversation, does the calling and inviting out and inviting over. Shit. Why does he even like this guy anyway?

"You know, if you don't want to, we can stop or something," Aomine says. "You don't have to feel obligated to do any of this."

Midorima rolls over and glares at him before kissing him senseless. How he can do that when he seems so tired right now is beyond Aomine, but he can't remember the end of his thought because Midorima's mouth is doing amazing things to his. It's not a smile, but it's reassuring nevertheless.

* * *

23. Summer Haze (Nebuya Eikichi/Hanamiya Makoto, 176 wds, K+)

There are days when Makoto is tired, and when he's tired he's almost as lazy and up for anything as Eikichi, although they are pretty few and far between. Eikichi's a pretty flexible guy; as long as he's not too restricted and no one's harping on him too much (the only people who harp on him at all really are Reo and his mother; Makoto gets mad at him but it's not like some kind of persistent nagging—Makoto doesn't want or expect him to change, finds some weird sadomasochistic pleasure in loathing certain parts of Eikichi) he's good to go.

When Makoto doesn't have the energy to make up dumb lies that are by now obvious to Eikichi despite the sincere (but not overly so) tone, when he lets his proud shoulders hunch, when he kisses Eikichi's neck and doesn't bite, when he just lies back in the summer haze—it's so much sweeter than when he's faking it, when he's trying hard to assert himself as smarter or meaner. That makes everything worth it.

* * *

24. Confusion (Kagami Taiga/Takao Kazunari, 167 wds, K+)

It's confusing how one minute he's sitting on the couch watching basketball and the next Takao has nestled himself firmly and comfortably in Kagami's arms and is conducting his own running commentary, drowning out the announcers and (in Kagami's opinion) doing a much better job with both the play-by-play and the color. He's tired, but he can't stop paying attention to the sound of that voice and the much smaller fingers that confidently lace themselves inside his, even as he closes his eyes and bows his head, nuzzling Takao's neck where it meets his shoulder. Takao doesn't miss a beat with his commentary, so then of course Kagami has to kiss him, even as he mumbles something about foul play into Kagami's lips. They break apart and even though their faces are at an awkward angle away from each other, Kagami can see Takao has an adoring smile on his face. After that, they're both quiet, too wrapped up in each other to care about the game.

* * *

25. Paper (Kagami Taiga/Takao Kazunari, 142 wds, K+)

The thin receipt flutters out from between his two fingers and Kagami mutters a curse under his breath as it gets lost in the whirl of leaves swirling and dancing in the wind. Oh, well, it's not like he _needs _it. He's about to abandon the paper to the streets when he feels a sudden pressure on his hand. He turns and can't help but return Takao's wide grin as the receipt, plucked from the air by his boyfriend's steady, hawk-eye-guided hand, is pressed into his palm. He squeezes Takao's hand (as if he'd let go anyway) and gives him a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Thanks."

Takao just lets his grin turn into a smirk. The paper is being crushed between their hands and the ink is no doubt rubbing off. It doesn't matter; there are other things on their minds.

* * *

26. Too Easy (Nebuya Eikichi/Hanamiya Makoto, 102 wds, K+)

Makoto slouches in his seat across from Eikichi. Eikichi continues to shovel the beef into his mouth, registering his boyfriend's presence but not acknowledging it.

"You know, Eikichi," Makoto says, stretching out his name in that way he does when he's trying to get someone's attention, "Everyone else was just too easy. You're a challenge."

Eikichi continues to eat, and the two sit in relative silence until he finishes and gets up and goes to the fridge, rifling through the contents.

"Like I'd say that!" Makoto yells.

He seems angrier than usual this time. Ah, well, there's more beef to be eaten.

* * *

27. Farm (Takao Kazunari/Kiyoshi Teppei, 279 wds, K+)

Waiting for the peppers to poke their little leaf-heads out of the ground is hard work. Kazunari's a pretty impatient guy, wants his results right _now_ but he says it in a way laced with double and triple meanings.

Teppei understands the impatience, the waiting for something that will take time to arrive and that cannot be disturbed. It's like his rehab from surgery, both times—of course, each time he had less to go back to but there was still the seemingly-endless waiting for the day he was allowed to walk on crutches, then to walk with a cane, then to walk without. He also understands the other things Kazunari wants to do to occupy the time before the leaves and stems sprout, so they slip off under the overhang of the porch while it rains and kiss each other to make the cool April day warmer. The scar on Teppei's knee aches, but it is Kazunari's hand (half the size of his) that gets there first. He sees everything; he sees the pain before Teppei does and seeks to alleviate it.

"Even Tecchan needs someone to take care of him sometimes," Kazunari says, because of course he sees the question before Teppei can properly form it into words.

Kazunari's knees are fresh and good, and he can crouch down and peer closely at the ground, and it's hard not to smile at the childish excitement on his face when he sees a small speck of green sprouting up. It might be a weed, but it doesn't matter. Teppei hauls him to his feet and kisses him again, needing to satisfy his sudden craving for that beautiful smile.

* * *

28. Bleachers (Susa Yoshinori/Imayoshi Shouichi, 139 wds, K+)

Their first kiss is behind the bleachers in the Seihou gym after a practice match (they won, of course) in their second year. Susa waits; Imayoshi sidles up. They're the same height now, although Susa's gained a lot of weight recently and is waiting for another growth spurt (it's nice to be tall, especially as a basketball player, but he hopes this one isn't too sudden, because growing eleven centimeters in two months last summer was rough), so Imayoshi knows this might be his last chance to be able to look at him on eye level without having to stand on something. His lips meet Susa's; both of them had been anticipated this for longer than they should have, because this kiss is sweet and savory and all kinds of wonderful. How could they have held out so long?

* * *

29. Ravenous (Kiyoshi Teppei/Furihata Kouki, 151 wds, K+)

Furihata doesn't know what he does to Kiyoshi, the way he bites his lip and furrows his brow and lets his hair fall just so to frame his face (he needs to get it cut, but at the same time he shouldn't because it's just so adorable). Kiyoshi's not sure he likes this ravenous self that awakens whenever Furihata moves just so or looks at him just so, because it's impossible to quell it no matter how tightly he hugs Furihata (he's afraid he'll squeeze all the air out one day) or how much he smothers him with kisses. Furihata is timid, but he is not afraid of this—at first he was, but now Kiyoshi is the one who's afraid of himself and Furihata who has to coax him out of his shell, mumbling sweet words of encouragement into Kiyoshi's chest, "yes" and "please, Senpai" and wordless moans and sighs.


	4. Chapter 4

Romance Drabbles Part 4

Disclaimer: Don't own.

* * *

30. Lost Cell Phone (Aomine Daiki/Murasakibara Atsushi, 124 wds, K+)

Why does he even pick up this call from a random number?

"Mine-chin, I've lost my phone."

"So why the hell are you calling me?"

"Come and pick me up. I'm lost."

The logistics of that statement are nonexistent, but that's par for the course with this guy. How the hell is Aomine supposed to find a random pay phone, especially when Murasakibara won't give him the cross streets or describe his surroundings very well?

Still, Aomine ends up finding him and buys him a bag of chips despite himself. Murasakibara isn't angry or impatient or entirely ungrateful, and that's surprising—Aomine gives him a questioning glance.

Murasakibara wraps his arm around Aomine. "Mine-chin came and found me," he says.

He's so simple, really.

* * *

31. Drink (Miyaji Kiyoshi/Takao Kazunari, 106 wds, T)

This is why Miyaji hates cappuccinos. They're so messy and he constantly feels like there's a circle of foam around his mouth, even when there isn't, so he's given up on licking his lips because it looks weird, okay?

That doesn't mean that Takao won't lean over and lick the foam off for him, eliciting a moan that Miyaji wishes wasn't quite so loud given the fact that they're in a public café. He wants to yell at Takao but the cute smirk on his face is overwhelming, so instead he just punches the table.

Takao kisses the bruises on his fist to make them better.

* * *

32. Infatuation (Nebuya Eikichi/Hanamiya Makoto, 195 wds, K+)

Makoto tries to break him; he tries very hard. The thing is, Eikichi is so strong that at this point he can't be broken—not by Makoto's deft hands, even. It infuriates Makoto and makes him furrow his large eyebrows and it actually looks kind of charming. Eikichi tries to explain this to him in the middle of one of Makoto's rants on how great he is, and it only gets worse.

Eikichi sighs. "Protein, that's how I'm so strong."

"It doesn't work that way!" Makoto snaps. He's pouting, sticking out his lower lip and it's even more adorable that Eikichi can't stop himself from kissing Makoto.

Makoto bites Eikichi's lip and pinches him hard on the hand. It hurts, yeah, but he's still not broken. And as much as Makoto is protesting and attacking, he's not actually pulling away—as he bites, he leans into Eikichi's chest, compact yet forceful, and the way he knocks his knee against Eikichi's isn't just meant to make him buckle to the ground (which he doesn't). And his hands have stopped their pinching and lie loosely intertwined with Eikichi's, which for Makoto counts as a very affectionate gesture.

* * *

33. Blink (Alexandra Garcia/Araki Masako, 181 wds, K+)

Masako's face is usually set in some kind of a blank stare, straight ahead, ignoring her surroundings or intensely focused on one thing, or some kind of mixture of the two. Alex likes that expression; Masako looks cute like that, something Alex once made the mistake of telling her—which brought her face into its secondary expression, the frown with the twitching veins and the mouth that moves in some sort of blur (it's not clear and still even when Alex is wearing her glasses), the only other expression most people think Masako has.

Alex considers herself very lucky to have seen Masako's third expression. It's rare, the diamond in the rough that Masako has conditioned herself to never show. When Alex catches her off-guard with a kiss that's not demanding but tentative and lingering, and then pulls away, she sometimes has enough time to register the faint flush on Masako's face before she suppresses it and the way her lips are parted softly in a half-smile and the sheer bliss in her eyes. But if she blinks, she'll miss it.

* * *

34. Marbles (Susa Yoshinori/Aomine Daiki, 202 wds, T)

Sometimes when Aomine's around there are marbles in Susa's throat. He wonders if he has any kind of a gag reflex left because it's like his neck is about to burst open from the pressure and he wheezes breaths in short puffs, hands clasping Aomine on the shoulder. Aomine cocks an eyebrow and lets a grin spread across his face and places his mouth on Susa.

The kiss is resuscitation, forcing sweet air through his lungs and he hangs on for dear life. He's pathetic, but not as pathetically easy as Aomine, who pants and moans when they're only kissing and he's always so desperately horny—the kid's sex drive is higher than anyone Susa's ever met (though, of course, he doesn't discuss sex drive with most other people, but the topic comes up with Aomine way before they start fucking anyway).

Well, he's had his fix and they need to get to practice. He pulls away. Aomine tries to pull him back by his tie. "Bastard," he says when Susa grabs the tie away.

Susa shrugs. It's kind of cute that Aomine thinks that after two and a half years of the Touou basketball team comments like these would affect him.

* * *

35. Mirror (Aomine Daiki/Kise Ryouta, 116 wds, K+)

Kise copies things, not only basketball moves, but gestures and motions and speech patterns and expressions. Part of it's unconscious; he's just so used to adding things to his repertoire that he does it without thinking. Still, it doesn't bug Aomine, because he co-opts them and then makes them his own, combining them with what he already knows. Plus, no matter how exactly the same as some other model the way Kise tucks a lock of hair behind his ear is the smirk on his face is pure Kise, and so is the glint in his eye. Despite everything he's taken, he's a true original.

Besides, there's no way anyone else could kiss him like that.

* * *

36. Kiss (Nebuya Eikichi/Furihata Kouki, 102 wds, K+)

That Furihata kid doesn't get a lot of minutes. He's not an especially brilliant point guard, especially when compared with Akashi (comparing the two is unfair to both of them, though; Even Nebuya can see that). Still, there's something about that look on his face of utter terror that's a little bit unnerving (how he finds anything unnerving, especially after playing almost two whole years with Akashi is beyond Nebuya but that's beside the point) and at the same time kind of…cute (okay, Akashi's not the problem here. He's definitely been spending too much time around Reo). Nebuya kind of wants to kiss him.

* * *

37. Sunset (Aomine Daiki/Midorima Shintarou, 495 wds, T)

It's closer to sunrise than sunset, and when you're coming home after work that's not a good thing. Even if tomorrow is a day off, the case has kept you way too late and you know exactly what you're going to come home to—not that Aomine is thinking about that. He's thinking about one foot in front of the other and he's really getting too old for this shit, even being a cop behind a desk, and what pocket were his keys in again? He comes in and the light of the foyer is much too bright when compared to the dim hallway and the pitch black outdoors and he squints. The TV is on quietly in the living room; he slips off his shoes and places his keys on the small table.

Midorima is watching TV; he turns slowly at the creak in the floorboards. His eyes are half-closed and his perfect posture is in a slump. He's watching an infomercial; that shit is likely to put you to sleep when you're fully alert. Aomine is both impressed and annoyed.

"Welcome home," Midorima says quietly, blinking several times.

Aomine doesn't know why he feels guilty—he didn't even have enough time to himself to grab a cup of coffee or take a bathroom break, let alone text or call. He could have done something on the way home, sure, but he was completely drained (still is, wants to flop down on the couch and put his head in Midorima's lap and sleep for two days straight) and he'd suppressed the voice in his mind telling him to call (because he should be asleep unless he wants to pull a goddamn all-nighter or something).

He walks over to the couch and offers a hand, pulls Midorima to his feet. Midorima avoids complete eye contact, pushing up his glasses and busily shifting his gaze and then picking up the remote to turn off the TV.

"Don't stay up so late," Aomine says, catching Midorima's hand in his own. Green eyes jerk back over to meet blue. Neither looks away.

Aomine yanks on Midorima's arm and starts walking. "Come on, you need to get to bed."

Midorima's feebly protesting, and tries to struggle against Aomine's arm when it presses him against the bed because he's still wearing his regular clothes and it's not right to sleep in them and it messes up his rituals. He's going to feel like hell anyway, tomorrow, but a few extra minutes of sleep will be worth it, and the struggles aren't really wholehearted. Even he is too tired to care sometimes.

Aomine's drifting off, a few seconds after letting his head hit the pillow, when Midorima moves against him again—but he just pulls Aomine into his arms and kisses his neck. Aomine decides to let Midorima think he's already asleep—not like the self-satisfaction will be good for Midorima, but honestly he's too tired and it feels too good.

* * *

38. Lively (Alexandra Garcia/Aomine Daiki, 490 wds, T)

She's somehow lively without being peppy or annoying—it strikes him that she's really just _human_ when they're lying in bed and it's a little too cold and neither of them is getting up to make any coffee. Usually, she does but sometimes if she's stolen all the covers or he has to get up earlier he does, and even when she gets up willingly and early she's not happy about it. It's complicated, and he's too tired to properly think about it now. From the way Kagami had described her it was like she was some kind of perfect basketball goddess—but Kagami's clouded by his idolizations and his childhood, and not only that but the way she works hard to avoid showing him that she has any weakness.

She's not afraid of showing Aomine the things about her she doesn't like, the more human parts of her, the parts that aren't always smart and lively and funny, and that might be the thing that charms him most about her and makes him secretly pleased. These are parts of her that she doesn't show to anyone else, really—not to her boss, not to her basketball opponents, not to most of the people she loves.

Aomine, on the other hand, shows everyone the negative parts of himself, the lazy part and the lewd part and the idiocy and the part of him that bullies and belittles others. Some people look past that and focus on the little good he shows—his talent (is that good?) and his power and his looks (but those aren't really good qualities either) and his loyalty when shit goes down. Kise looks at the talent and Tetsu desperately focuses on the loyalty and Satsuki is stuck in the past with him. But Alex likes him for all these—although neither the good nor the bad of his façade is what really matters to her. She sees the loyalty that's always inside him, hidden, and forces it out, and she sees the way he's interested in people and things other than himself far more often than he lets on. She knows the parts of himself that make him uncomfortable, the way he knows the parts of her that make her uncomfortable, and that's why he's going to get up at nine in the morning when they both have a day off to make coffee.

He sits up, stretches. She yanks at his wrist, catching him by surprise so that he lands on top of her. Her eyes are only half-open (not like she could see that well anyway) but she's memorized the shape of his body and her hands land on exactly the right spots. She mutters something in Spanish and pulls him closer. He doesn't know the exact words, but it's probably something to do with it being too early and that she's too cold.

He's still pretty tired. Sleep is a good idea.


	5. Chapter 5

Romance Drabbles Part 5

Disclaimer: Don't own.

* * *

39. Working Hard (Miyaji Kiyoshi/Takao Kazunari, 253 wds, K+)

Takao seems to be a carefree kind of guy, but Miyaji knows better. He works hard at everything—he's not the most talented basketball player when it comes to raw physical ability; hawk's eye aside he has almost no natural talent. His passes are not graceful, nor are his shots the careless-looking floating things of a natural shooter. His walk is slightly pigeon-toed; when the other guys are working after practice on their shots or their jumps, he's practicing his step. He's not even really doing suicides; he's just running a few steps, then a bit longer incrementally and staring down at his feet as if he can will them straight just by looking.

The admittance of his flaws, the strive to eliminate them—it's more evident in Takao than in anyone else Miyaji knows. It's one of the things he likes most about Takao (although it's one of a hell of a lot of things he likes about Takao, even though he can be an annoying brat sometimes). It's what makes him step in when everyone else is already gone or in the showers and Takao is still running and tell him that he's done enough for today, that everyone has limits, that he'll hurt himself if he tries too long.

"I know," Takao says, panting, and he grabs onto Miyaji's arm and gives him a grin that's only half in earnest. There's nothing in the vicinity to throw at him, so Miyaji just lets Takao lean on his shoulder for now.

* * *

40. Rain of Blossoms (Mibuchi Reo/Nebuya Eikichi, 303 wds, K+)

In a perfect world, he'd walk constantly showered in a rain of blossoms, pink and purple and yellow, delicate and pale and falling softly—more like snow than rain (but more like rain than hail or sleet or fog) if one is being honest. That's how Mibuchi Reo used to think, before he fell in love with a guy who gets horrible hay fever every spring, so bad he can hardly see his eyes are so puffy and red and who sneezes violently and disgustingly whenever he comes face to face with a flower and gets snot everywhere (seriously, it's disgusting). And it would be harder to kiss with petals getting stuck between their lips and in their mouths and all over. It sounds romantic, but it's totally impractical—not that Mibuchi's the most practical guy. But even he has his limits.

Nebuya buys him a bouquet of plastic flowers on Valentine's Day. After all, Mibuchi's love of flowers isn't exactly something unknown. They're beautiful, giant daffodils mixed with pink roses and tulips and even some fake baby's breath. Honestly, Mibuchi wasn't expecting anything, but the annoying voice inside his head says he should start giving his boyfriend more credit because it is most certainly due here.

The best thing about these fake flowers—besides them being his favorite types of flowers and given to him by his favorite person—are that they last forever. He puts them in a vase on his nightstand next to his alarm clock, and months later they're still there, fake dewdrops shining in the light just like they had when Nebuya half-sheepishly presented them to him after morning practice. The next time Nebuya comes over, he raises an eyebrow at them and his lips turn up at the corners and then he presses them to Mibuchi's cheek.

* * *

41. Simplicity (Kiyoshi Teppei/Furihata Kouki, 183 wds, K+)

When he sleeps, the creases on his face smooth out and his fingers do not clutch so tightly around Teppei's arm and his shoulders relax slightly and his heartbeat is steady. It's beautiful and simple, a side of him that Kouki himself perhaps does not know exists—sometimes he tries to let himself go, be less nervous, and sometimes he forgets to be afraid when he's awake, but those are brief flashes of a few seconds at most. In his dreams, he is free of anxiety, has slipped out of these terrible mental shackles. Teppei brushes back the soft brown hair from where it's fallen over Kouki's cheek and he does not stir, too wrapped up in his subconscious. Teppei knows he should be asleep, too; he has school tomorrow and he has to get up early, and he's not actually doing anything right now except watching the moonlight streaks wind their way across Kouki's face. But he could watch this forever, encompass himself in the moment where he's alone in the muffled night quiet and wrapped up in this beautiful boy's simplicity.

* * *

42. Clocked (Imayoshi Shouichi/Kasamatsu Yukio, 155 wds, T)

Kasamatsu feels like he's been clocked in the chest by the demon that is Imayoshi, and he wants revenge for the extra sweat on his palms and the flush on his face and the butterflies in his stomach and the tingling on his lips at the (somehow constant) thought of putting them on Imayoshi's. It's just bad, all of it; he feels royally fucked. He rages at Imayoshi, who barely lifts an eyebrow and when Kasamatsu pauses because he can't think of words around Imayoshi and always feels hopelessly inadequate, Imayoshi asks, "Are you quite done?"

Kasamatsu's about to just sink his head into his arms when Imayoshi kisses him, licks at his teeth that are clamped shut and now part willingly even though his mind is screaming no. He pulls closer and closes his eyes and wants to feel every centimeter of his body against every inch of Imayoshi's in a one-to-one ratio.

* * *

43. Fashion (Momoi Satsuki/Takao Kazunari, 224 wds, K+)

The tentative link between them is Kise, who thinks they'd totally get along, and he's absolutely right. Even though all three of them are talkers, they manage to distribute the conversation equally and then somehow it turns to people watching. Kise has somehow chosen the two most observant and insightful people he knows, and even though he's no slouch himself he's clearly outclassed by Momoi and Takao. Unfortunately, he's also surrounded by fans and gets busy signing autographs, leaving his friends alone together.

"I really don't understand people's outfits sometimes," Takao says with a sigh. "But then again, I don't understand fashion. Like, is it just me? Do you get any of it?"

He seems genuinely curious, and for once Momoi is not ashamed to shake her head. They always assume that she should know more about this sort of thing just because she's a girl—but really, she just wears what's comfortable and in colors that she likes.

"That's a relief," he says, flashing her a brilliant smile, and as his hand not-so-subtly brushes hers as he reaches across the table to steal some of Kise's abandoned coffee because his cup is empty. He winks at her and she smiles and she'd try to stop herself from blushing if her immediate concern wasn't that her heart's about to beat out of her chest.

* * *

44. Spilled Ink (Mibuchi Reo/Hanamiya Makoto, 175 wds, T)

Hanamiya's eyebrows are like splotches of spilled ink across his forehead. They look rough and at the same time studied, but more than that they're irresistibly cute. Hanamiya's irresistibly cute, with his angry little scowl and crossed arms and thinner shoulders than Mibuchi expected. Unfortunately, he's completely unreceptive to Mibuchi's charms. Mibuchi's met tsundere guys before, but nothing like this. The scowl doesn't begin to turn up at the corners and he seems genuinely annoyed. So Mibuchi makes a last-ditch effort.

"You're really cute, Mako-chan."

And he blushes. Success. Of course, he starts yelling about how Mibuchi is a stupid annoying fucker who needs to leave him the hell alone and not call him Mako-chan because they are not on a first name basis let alone a nickname basis and he would not choose that nickname out of all of them and fuck this whole "uncrowned kings" thing because he does not want to be associated with Mibuchi.

Mibuchi skips off to rejoin his middle school team and scores fifty points in his next match.

* * *

45. Starry-Eyed (Imayoshi Shouichi/Kasamatsu Yukio, 199 wds, T)

"Whoa," says Kasamatsu when he steps out of the car. "Shit."

It's been a few years since he's been back in Kanagawa. What with Imayoshi's lack of seriousness toward packing and Kasamatsu's forgetfulness in times of stress they've managed to make this trip stretch a few hours too many and it's almost midnight by now (at least they've finally arrived).

Kasamatsu's pointing up at the stars with a beautiful look of transfixed enthusiasm. It's easy to forget the beauty of the stars in Tokyo, surrounded by white noise and white lights that shine onto the sky like those lights at the base of billboards, illuminating and blinding and casting out the stars. The crickets are chirping (it should be too late in autumn for this, but they're still going at it) and Kasamatsu leans on the hood of the car and throws his head back. Imayoshi flicks his neck (because, really, he should stop being such a tease and exposing it like that) and Kasamatsu jerks back and punches him in the abdomen (Imayoshi moves aside enough so that it's just a glancing blow that doesn't completely knock the wind out of him but it placates Kasamatsu all the same).

* * *

46. Progress (Aomine Daiki/Murasakibara Atsushi, 229 wds, T)

Atsushi moves slowly, literally and metaphorically—he needs things explained two or three times sometimes, and he drags his feet even though with his long legs he should be able to cover twice the ground that Aomine does in half the time. Sometimes, Aomine can't tell if he's just having him repeat himself for his own entertainment (although he got the idea that Atsushi might be doing that from Tetsu, who'd suggested it with that odd little invisible Tetsu-specific smirk and Aomine wasn't really sure if he should take him seriously at first) because he stares at the way Aomine's mouth moves when he repeats himself, slowing down the syllables, and then kisses him in the middle of the explanation like he doesn't want to hear the rest. Aomine would like to assume that he's just too lazy to bother to hear it again—but who knows what goes on in that fucked-up mind of his?

Atsushi's been kissing him so long and hard he can't breathe and he breaks the kiss, half-shoving him away and panting (he should be more ready for these when they happen, shouldn't he?) and dizzy. Atsushi caresses his chin and tilts his face up. He's half-grinning and his face is flushed.

"You're cute, Dai-chin," he says before he leans in again to kiss away whatever of his breath Aomine has managed to catch.

* * *

47. Lively (Akashi Seijuurou/Midorima Shintarou, 85 wds, K+)

Akashi brushes the tiny pieces of lint from Midorima's jacket, the ones he hadn't realized were there, fingers brushing just a few millimeters of air away from the soft skin of his cheek. Akashi fixes his tie, adjusts it a micrometer to the left but does not release his hands from Midorima's throat. He looks him up and down, and then yanks down on the tie to bring Midorima's lips to his—even though it's a sudden move their lips meet softly and gracefully somehow.


	6. Chapter 6

Romance Drabbles Part 6

Disclaimer: Don't own.

* * *

48. Breakfast (Susa Yoshinori/Aomine Daiki, 103 wds, K+)

Breakfast is burnt toast and coffee with skim milk. Aomine rifles through the fridge but can't find any butter or margarine or jam, and is about to grumble something to Susa about being a cheapskate when he looks at Susa, head leaning on his hand, stubble on his chin, plastic-framed glasses instead of contacts that are slipping down on his nose. He looks damn fine and for a second Aomine forgets his hunger. Then, of course, his stomach reminds him. Susa's hand moves; he's dipping his toast in the coffee.

Aomine can't see any better alternatives, so he tries it himself. Not bad.

* * *

49. Cross-Dressing (Kuroko Tetsuya/Koganei Shinji, 164 wds, K+)

Kuroko's so tiny that anything in men's sizes is too long and too wide and fits awkwardly. The stuff in the kid's section is too awkward, and getting t-shirts tailored is too frivolous. Koganei's solution is to go to the ladies' department, and Kuroko stares at him like he's crazy.

"Koganei-kun, you cannot be serious."

Koganei widens his cat-smile and squeezes Kuroko's hand. Kuroko wants badly to withdraw it but for some reason doesn't. "Come on. Give it a try!"

Women's high-waist jeans are surprisingly comfortable. They're still a bit baggy, but the inseam is perfect and he likes the way they hug his calves. Of course, he keeps his expression neutral but years of reading Mitobe's nonverbal conversation cannot keep Koganei from finding out. At least he doesn't tell anyone, although Kuroko has to warn him several times before he's sure he won't.

"Secrets are fun, anyway," Koganei whispers, and there's no one around so the kiss he steals is another tiny secret.

* * *

50. Hug (Imayoshi Shouichi/Himuro Tatsuya, 130 wds, K+)

Imayoshi is often difficult, and most of the time it's intentional. Himuro doesn't really care, ignores it and cuts through it with a mixture of icy stares, unflappability, and affection. Imayoshi will start to tease him or go off on a tangent and then Himuro will hug him from behind, not squeezing too tightly, place his head on Imayoshi's shoulder, kiss his cheek. It's never when Imayoshi's saying something that's actually important—then Himuro leans in closer, listens for every meaning of the words. He's very sharp, very observant—Imayoshi wouldn't like him if he wasn't, after all. Still, it's a bit unnerving how easily he distracts Imayoshi with his gestures, and how even though Imayoshi doesn't change his heartbeat or his expression Himuro knows exactly the effect he has.

* * *

51. Bones (Murasakibara Atsushi/Kiyoshi Teppei, 294 wds, T)

Atsushi doesn't exactly understand it, but sometimes he feels an ache in his bones running deep and full of longing. He thinks about calling Teppei just to hear his voice, but that makes the ache run deeper and he's not sure what to do. No one really gets it—Himuro asks him what hurts and dotes on him and Liu tells him that's what he gets for slacking off during practice. Teppei gets it, of course, and he offers to come up to Akita but he doesn't have much money, does he? Himuro's always telling Atsushi to be conscious of others' fortunes.

He comes into Tokyo sometimes, but it's never enough, and it's usually with the rest of the team for a game. He tries to make time afterward, but there never is any. Even when Teppei comes to the games, there's no time afterward.

"I can't help but be greedy," Teppei says, standing on his tiptoes and placing those beautiful hands on Atsushi's face, leaning in for a kiss.

Atsushi's greedy, too. He doesn't want to spare any time for talk right now when these kisses are making the ache subside—not completely, but the only reason he wants to cry out now is because of the pleasure that has washed over him to replace the pain. He wants more, more, wants to be overtaken.

Eventually, Teppei pulls away. There will never, ever be enough time. Why can't he just crush time the way he crushes insects and weak players? He wants to make enough time, create a pocket for just them. He tries to express it, but has no idea how—Teppei understands the few words that come out, because he always does but that's not enough, either. Nothing is ever enough.

* * *

52. Old (Momoi Satsuki/Araki Masako, 136 wds, K+)

Masako primps in front of the mirror every morning, rubs creams under her eyes and then waits ten minutes while putting foundation on her forehead, and then she adds concealer. She frowns at her hands and the small wrinkles forming on her wrists and Satsuki comes into the bathroom and rolls her eyes. Masako's so sensitive about her age even though Satsuki has told her time and time again that it doesn't actually matter, and she leans her forehead on Masako's back between her shoulder blades and holds her hands and tells her not to worry so much, that worrying will only give her more wrinkles (not that it matters, because wrinkles or not she's still strikingly beautiful). Masako scowls deeper and locks her out of the bathroom, but she gives Satsuki an extra-long goodbye kiss.

* * *

53. Luminous or Something (Aomine Daiki/Midorima Shintarou, 245 wds, T)

Midorima's the kind of guy who just looks damn good in a yukata. He's got that rigid, old-fashioned look about him, not to mention he's hot to begin with. Still, a stuffy guy with long eyelashes and long fingers and green eyes looks great with the wind blowing back his hair and the fabric against his skin. (He wore contacts today; glasses somehow make the look unbalanced—but then again, Aomine's no fashion critic.)

Midorima looks better when the yukata is half-off and his chest and abs and one bicep are freed and his face has a sheen of sweat over it and he moans as Aomine's hands traverse his hands and it's half-dark but he's fucking luminous or something, pale skin that looks more like it's shining from within than reflecting any source of light and the tone of his muscles is so sharp and he whines when Aomine traces a finger over his abs and catches Aomine's hand in his, larger palm and longer fingers that are free of tape for once, nails all filed down to uniform length and God he is beautiful.

But he's completely gorgeous when he's naked and pinning Aomine down with his raw strength and his hair is plastered to his forehead and his lips are swollen because they've been kissed so much and his knees squeeze Aomine's waist and the yukata is lying somewhere crumpled on the floor because sometimes even Midorima forgets to be perfectly neat.

* * *

54. Wrecked (Kawahara Kouichi/Kasuga Ryuuhei, 183 wds, T)

The skinhead kid says something about having seen him somewhere before but Kasuga's so wrecked right now he can't determine if he's being sincere or a pickup line so he kisses him anyway, and the kid's surprised but kisses him back so it doesn't matter because the end result is still the same. After that it's sort of a blur but he remembers the hands up his sides and the small mouth tentative on his neck and it's alright, not the best he's ever had but not the worst. The kid's apartment is shitty but he's got a pair of basketball shoes by the door and a picture in the living room of what looks like his middle school team. Kasuga's not in the right frame of mind to remember every team he played against way back when he was fourteen (is their age difference really two years? It must be.) and he's trying to loosen his belt right now but his fingers won't cooperate so he forgets all about the whole thing until he's long gone. He never got that kid's name.

* * *

55. Vanilla (Hayama Kotarou/Takao Kazunari, 251 wds, K+)

Hayama comes by with a new excuse every time, and he seems not to care that Miyaji has retired from the team, even though the first five times he comes to practice that's all he can talk about. Takao starts to wonder if this was what Ootsubo meant when he talked about the trials of being captain and suddenly the next two years seem very, very long.

After he gets bored of talking about Miyaji, Hayama talks Takao's ear off about other subjects, and even he can't get a word in edgewise. Hayama also has zero concept of personal space; when Takao's doing drills or stretches Hayama is right there next to him. He realizes after a while that Hayama smells like vanilla, and the scent clings to him even after a shower (Nakatani-sensei refuses point-blank to let Hayama in the locker rooms).

It takes him a while to realize it's actually kind of comforting, the smell of vanilla and the increased air pressure around him from the wildly-gesturing hands. Hayama makes it easy to just turn around and kiss him, although the resulting silence is deafening (he'd thought for sure this guy would mumble into his mouth, but he seems completely dumbstruck) so Takao pulls away before he's fully satisfied.

Hayama immediately pulls him back, grabbing him so tightly he can barely breathe but it's nice to hear that wildly-pumping heart and feel the multitudde of return kisses Hayama presses into his hair and his forehead and onto his ears.

* * *

56. Fishing (Imayoshi Shouichi/Susa Yoshinori, 169 wds, T)

Someone (who?) said that a bad day fishing is better than a good day at work. Susa's not sure if he'd agree; it's something that tries even his almost-infinite patience. He's always paranoid that he'll fall asleep and his rod will get dragged into the water. He knows it's irrational, but he can vividly picture Imayoshi laughing as the rod falls off and gets pulled away by some stupid fucking fish.

It's nice when Imayoshi gets hot and takes off his shirt and flexes his back muscles just so, in part because he knows it get Susa hot and bothered (but they don't do anything because what if a fish bites?) and then Susa doesn't really care if his rod goes into the water or breaks in two. It's also nice that they can just relax wordlessly, each thinking something to himself and letting his thoughts wander. It's pleasant, peaceful. Susa has to partially concede: a bad day fishing with Imayoshi is better than a good day at work.

* * *

57. Fortitude (Takao Kazunari/Furihata Kouki, 152 wds, T)

Furihata is quiet but loud at the same time, mouth silent but jittering so fast he draws attention anyway, even when he's trying to curl into himself. It's especially hard for Takao when they're playing basketball, even when he's trying to set up a play or screen someone or get somewhere, he can't block out of his vision this person who's always vibrating, always moving, never calm (even so, hawk eyes are still worth it). Takao can't understand how he handles a basketball like that, but he's seen weirder things.

It only starts making sense when Furihata's hands are encircling his wrists and when the shaking mouth is at his throat, how light his touches really are, how much he keeps the basketball suspended in air, but that's about the extent to which he ever gets it, because he doesn't want to think about basketball when Furihata's hips are shaking against his.


	7. Chapter 7

Romance Drabbles Part 7

Disclaimer: Don't own.

* * *

58. Frost (Nebuya Eikichi/Hanamiya Makoto, T, 133 wds)

Makoto lets the frost in, raises the windows and places planks on the sill to keep them from falling because the apartment is old and neither of them particularly enjoys dealing with people so they don't get it fixed. If his plan is to make Eikichi cold, then it's not working, because Eikichi's seriously dedicated to his physique and that means his circulation is great—he just doesn't get cold, especially when he's always got a hot bowl of food in his hands.

Makoto's cold, though, miserably so although he pretends otherwise, stubborn to more than a fault. Three times he throws off Eikichi's arm loosely draped around his shoulders, but the fourth he succumbs to the warmth, muttering something about muscle gorilla bastards while shuffling closer to Eikichi's radiator of a body.

* * *

59. Honorable Mention (Alexandra Garcia/Himuro Tatsuya, T, 207 wds)

She wonders sometimes if she'll ever be more than an honorable mention in his life (if she was him she'd think thinking this way was the ultimate selfishness, which in a way it is but she's not going to be preoccupied with self-deprecation). There are people much more important to him, who time and again outweigh her—Taiga, his parents, maybe Atsushi (she's not so much a part of his life anymore, is she? There are people she won't ever know that are more important to him, most likely). She's greedy, but oh, well. He gives her hope, sometimes, too much hope—his insistence on her treating him like an adult, for one thing (he half-grew up too fast way before her eyes and she wants him to go on and do things properly; he's still only seventeen, damn it) but that might have to do with himself more than it does with her.

It's hard to think about somedays and maybes when she's thinking about him, because there's so much she doesn't know, about him and herself and these somedays and conditions for these maybes, so she just hangs back, occasionally giving him a nudge. He doesn't look back at her as often as she'd like.

* * *

60. Doubt (Imayoshi Shouichi/Sakurai Ryou, K+, 107 wds)

Sakurai's unsure of everything: himself, others, inanimate objects, decisions. He wavers like an autumn leaf that's already a deep purple but hasn't quite fallen from the branch yet, holding on too long.

Sakurai doesn't doubt Imayoshi. He makes it clear, flips the switch quicker than Imayoshi thought was possible (Sakurai continues to surprise him, one of the many things about him that Imayoshi finds simply fascinating) and puts on a firmer seriousness. His eyes are steely and he shuts down Imayoshi, who's just been teasing him again.

"I have no reason to doubt you, sempai," he says. His gaze almost forces Imayoshi's eyes open.

* * *

61. Adulthood (Okamura Kenichi/Fukui Kensuke, T, 161 wds)

Are they really adults? A number of years have passed since they first met at basketball tryouts, the only ones still going on Araki-sensei's obstacle course from hell, Okamura due to raw strength and Fukui due to sheer willpower. Yes, years have passed and they have jobs and pay bills and taxes and read newspapers and earn money—but they're not really adults, are they? Okamura's still incredibly sensitive and vain; Fukui still teases and tricks just for the hell of it. They're still together, too.

But this isn't really some childlike romance, some sugary teenage puppy-love affair. They'd just somehow ended up sleeping together, and somehow ended up doing it again and again and before long their relationship had just kind of evolved. There were never any shifty eyes or awkward confessions or love letters or blushingly-given chocolates or tiptoeing around feelings. It's comfortable, pleasant—not entirely dispassionate, though. It's a fine line they walk, hand in decidedly larger hand.

* * *

62. Sweet (Hanamiya Makoto/Hara Kazuya, K+, 80 wds)

It's not that Hanamiya is ever wrong; it's just that…he expected something different. He expected Hara to taste sweet, like the powdery coating on the pink pellets of bubble gum he chews, but instead he tastes mind-numbingly bitter, like gum that has been chewed and chewed and chewed until it's almost hardened. It's not sweet at all, but it's better this way. Sweetness would be too much of a dissonance, a dissonance that he's prepared himself for but dissonance nonetheless.

* * *

63. Water (Kuroko Tetsuya/Furihata Kouki, K+, 132 wds)

The first thing that Kuroko lends Furihata is a bottle of water; in return Furihata lends him a book he thinks Kuroko might like. It turns out to be a winner—Kuroko hasn't read it yet and enjoys it immensely. He thanks Furihata with a genuine smile and that day is the first one that Furihata is self-aware to realize that the subtle descent of his internal organs into a slushy mess at his feet might mean that he's falling in love with Kuroko a little bit.

The first time Kuroko kisses Furihata it's straightforward and on the lips, everything one would expect Kuroko's kiss to be. It's a few seconds long and he tastes slightly bittersweet. Furihata kisses him back sloppily and doesn't take the lead, but Kuroko couldn't care less.

* * *

64. Falling Into Place (Kagami Taiga/Furihata Kouki, T, 168 wds)

It takes a while for them to understand each other—not that they aren't trying, but it's just that they don't expect to have to try. It's a while before Furihata stops finding Kagami's rude manner of speech so personally, and it's a while before Kagami learns to interpret all of Furihata's worried little glances—he's not looking up from the pages of his book pointedly to get Kagami to go away because he's passive-aggressive; he's looking up to make sure Kagami is still there. Eventually, Kagami sees the tiny smiles in those glances and if Kagami said the way Furihata bites his lower lip unconsciously doesn't get cuter every goddamn time, he'd be lying. The hammer of Furihata's heart against him and the way Kagami's too-often-awkward body seems to fit around Furihata's like a mold and the surprisingly strong grip are what make Furihata's hugs the best damn thing in the world except for maybe basketball, and even then Kagami's probably giving the game too much credit.

* * *

65. Bite (Kiyoshi Teppei/Takao Kazunari, T, 104 wds)

Kazunari leaves tiny bite marks all over Teppei's chest and shoulders, little chomps that don't hurt as much as they just feel like something. He sucks on the bite marks and then kisses them, leaving marks that don't fade for a good while. There's never enough time to see each other, and the marks fade before they meet again almost without fail. Still, it's nice to take off his pajama shirt in the morning before he shaves and touch the red marks where the blood vessels burst underneath his skin and remember the feel of wet lips and small, sensitive fingers on his skin.

* * *

66. Movie (Aomine Daiki/Seto Kentarou, T, 189 wds)

They fall asleep in the middle of the movie, TV still blaring sounds and epilepsy-inducing color flashes unbeknownst to the two boys whose bodies are smashed together awkwardly on the couch. When they wake up, the menu is on its umpteenth loop. They're too lazy to find the remote to turn it off, damn annoying as the musical theme repeating itself gets. Aomine's groping Seto's ass, wrist straining at this odd angle. Seto's not sure if he wants to go back to sleep or if he wants to keep going with Aomine, and although there's something inherently amusing about denying pleasure to his constantly horny boyfriend, well…fuck that. There's something (multiple somethings, actually) about their fumbling, sleepy couch sex that Seto enjoys, Aomine wincing as his elbow goes through the space between the pillows and hits the hard back of the couch and the way Aomine shifts in vain trying to get comfortable and the way his blue eyes dilate in the shadows and it's all too perfect and besides the best kind of sleep is post-sex sleep so he can afford to put it off for a bit.

* * *

67. Tattoo (Susa Yoshinori/Midorima Shintarou, T, 236 wds)

Susa has a tattoo on his hip; the skin pulled taut over his bone is covered in some sort of awkward vaguely animal-ish thing, and the first time he sees it Midorima can't not stare openly. Susa's shirt is riding up on his torso and they're sitting half-awkwardly on Midorima's couch and the tension in the air is rising and drowning them at this point—but in all seriousness Midorima doesn't know what the fuck that thing is.

"It's a dragon," Susa says, spitting the words out like he doesn't want to feel them on his tongue.

Midorima squints; there's definitely something reptilian about it—but it really looks more like a lizard or a salamander. There's probably a story behind this that involves dubious needles and copious amounts of alcohol, but that's not really the point. The tattoo seems like a mistake drawn in pencil and smudged over by a horrible pink eraser that leaves only a strange stain behind, in its own way commonplace and unique to Susa at the same time.

Susa starts to pull on his shirt but Midorima reaches out a hand and closes it around Susa's wrist. Susa smirks and slides his hand down to intertwine his fingers with Midorima's. And then he pushes Midorima down and pins him between his legs and kisses him and it's a good few minutes until they get back on the subject of hips.

* * *

68. In Five Years (Aomine Daiki/Midorima Shintarou, T, 214 wds)

Five years ago, they were classmates. They weren't on the best of terms and almost never spoke, as their basketball team was falling apart and their eyes were turned far in opposite directions. Five years ago, they would have most likely had identical reactions to anyone proposing that their relationship would end up the way it is now—violent opposition.

"I was such a dumbass," Aomine says, stretching his hands up. Even though Midorima's only about seven or eight centimeters taller, standing next to him makes Aomine conscious of the difference, of how much he has to tilt his head upward to see Midorima's eyes. Five years ago, he was at eye level.

"Was?"

Aomine drops his arm around Midorima's shoulders. It's a bit of a reach, but he can still do it (his arms are long, something he is quite thankful for sometimes). "You're the one who's still dumb."

Midorima folds his arms across his chest. How had Aomine spent three years of middle school seeing him every day and been completely in denial of how fucking cute Midorima's pouty expression is? Of course, Midorima himself seems totally unaware, too, and holy shit he's way too damn cute.

"Don't ever stop being dumb," Aomine says, leaning up to kiss those adorably frowning lips.

* * *

69. Vulnerable (Aomine Daiki/Momoi Satsuki, T, 222 wds)

They've both had lots of practice pretending to be hardened and unfeeling, bearing down and bending but not breaking—and when they do break it's impossible for them to mend the same way as they were before. It's not necessarily bad; everyone changes—still, though, no one sees him when he is at his most vulnerable. He's good at shutting out the pain, good at putting himself in denial, good at building up walls with his strong arms and willpower.

She tears it all down in a heartbeat but does not look at him with pity or scorn or revulsion, only with acceptance and a helping hand. He has become so much bigger than her, but she is still strong enough and then some to pick him up and pull him along for a little while, under the condition that he'll be able to stand on his own at some point because she can't pull him along forever. Even if she could, she wouldn't. He wouldn't want her, too, anyway—not because of some dumb macho pride thing (it's goddamn useless trying to act proud around her most of the time) but because they'll both be miserable if she doesn't put herself first sometimes. Luckily for them, she's not some damn selfless shoujo heroine, one of the many reasons he loves her.

* * *

70. Special Kind of Hell (Aomine Daiki/Murasakibara Atsushi, T, 187 wds)

Murasakibara's eyes are heavy; they flutter uselessly against the back of Aomine's neck. Neither of them has much of a reason to stay awake—well, homework, sure, or the end of this basketball game on television, but neither of those is really that important. They're together, and they end up asleep way too often in the tiny slivers of time that they get with each other, but they rest easier when they're being held in warm arms, both of them.

He nuzzles Aomine's neck, placing a dry-lipped kiss on his shoulder and mumbling something incoherent. It's too early for them to be this tired; they didn't do all that much today. And they're falling asleep on the floor, awkwardly positioned with Aomine in Murasakibara's lap. They're going to wake up too sore to move, Aomine tells himself, and he tries to will himself to get up, but there's really no point. It's not going to work. They'll just fall asleep like this and wake up in a few hours and fall into bed even more awkwardly tangled and the morning will be a special kind of hell.


	8. Chapter 8

Romance Drabbles Part 8

Disclaimer: Don't own.

* * *

71. Night (Murasakibara Atsushi/Midorima Shintarou, 196 wds, T)

It shouldn't be this hot at night; it's November. Nevertheless, it's humid and sticky and everything the middle of autumn ought not to be. Of course, it hardly slows down Atsushi's appetite; he eats candy apples that were on sale at the drug store and he's plowing through cartons of special holiday gingerbread Maiubo. Shintarou generally feels vaguely nauseous and also kind of lazy. It's not the stale, stagnant summer haze nor is it the bitter, dark wind of winter. It's a different kind of lazy—and that's not even the proper word, really. Being under cover of the navy sky when all the windows are open and the slightest breeze reverberates around them both stirs something inside of Shintarou.

Evidently, Atsushi is affected as well, although he hasn't shown anything outwardly until now. His affections, always very physical, are different, more delicate, the way he slides his palm under Shintarou's shirt and rubs his back lightly and the softly almost tense (is that even possible? Is it an oxymoron?) expression on his face as Shintarou brushes the crumbs from his cheeks. His lips and tongue are as raw and needy and hungry as ever, though.

* * *

72. Hair Dye (Liu Wei/Himuro Tatsuya, 521 wds, T)

Sometimes Himuro's glad his boyfriend is an incredibly stubborn guy. He makes Himuro try things he's not open to sometimes, and that raw determination is what makes him a damn good basketball player. He will absolutely not let anyone score on him, utilizing his ridiculous wingspan efficiently to block everything or knock the ball out of an opponent's hands, and he's surprisingly quick for such a big guy and refuses to cede possession to the other team. His hands are capable.

In other matters, however, Liu's unwillingness to compromise or listen to reason can be very vexing. Once an idea is in his head, he won't give it up, and for some reason he wants to bleach his hair blonde. He won't go to the salon and get it done because Fukui "warned" him about the dangers of salons in Akita (at least he never lets Fukui cut his hair, preferring to trim it himself every few weeks—sometimes he lets Himuro do it because even with his long arms, reaching around to the back of his neck is difficult. Himuro enjoys trimming off the small strands, not even a quarter of an inch, and then kissing the back of Liu's neck—it's not actually exposed all that much more than it already was, but when he's shirtless and Himuro's standing on tiptoe to get a better angle and it's easy to move down to kissing the smooth muscles on Liu's back). He enlists Himuro's help, enticing him with kisses and promises that it'll be quick and fun and doesn't he want to see Liu with blonde hair.

He doesn't. Liu's hair is such a pretty shade of brown. It might be Himuro's favorite of Liu's physical features, along with his eyes and his back muscles and his lith arms and his legs that go on forever and, okay, Himuro just loves all of him. Still, he's heard that bleaching hair makes it hard and dry and frizzy, and Liu's hair is ridiculously soft and smooth. He knows he's being selfish, and he can't actually picture Liu with blonde hair so he might actually look hot like that. So, in the end, he caves.

Murasakibara is fascinated by the idea and watches them at first, sitting on the sink with his standard box of Maiubou in his hand. Once he finishes the snacks, he leaves, though, declaring it boring. It is, kind of, tediously repetitive and involving quite a lot of waiting. Liu is a lot less self-conscious after Murasakibara leaves, though, passing the time by turning his full attention to Himuro's body while both of them are careful not to dislodge the clips in Liu's hair or the towel around his shoulders. Eventually, Liu gives up when his hair has reached a rusty goldenrod shade, because it's too damn long of a wait. It looks very bright and unnatural, but it doesn't really look bad. They rinse the peroxide from Liu's hair and since they're wet already they just keep the shower on and get in to release the heavy tension that's been building up through the long wait.

* * *

73. Midnight (Liu Wei/Himuro Tatsuya, 245 wds, T)

They've barely registered the late hour in their minds, that the date has slid over and another sheet needs to be torn off the calendar. The constant practicing has warped their senses of time. When does it begin? When does it end? Are school and sleep just breaks from basketball? Liu's writing the drills and plays in the margins of his class notes; Himuro dreams of fingertips releasing rubber balls, of passes and shots and steals and dribbles. Both of them have high awareness of their surroundings; unseen opponents who are really just students running to the chapel or the cafeteria or their next class approach and they spin on the heels of their loafers.

Midnight is a time reserved just for the two of them, when the rise and fall of their chests has not become rhythmic quite yet and they've long since washed the sweat from their bodies. The radiator whistles and the cars drive by outside and the wind sighs and stirs the brittle tree branches. The two boys shift their weights gradually; Liu wraps himself around Himuro like a chrysalis and Himuro breathes in the faint scent of Liu's coconut body wash and sighs. It's pleasant. Liu's t-shirt is old and soft from being washed 13 times too many and his chest is warm and firm. His heartbeat is slow and steady and comforting, and Himuro's not sure if he wants to fall asleep or remain in this half-drowsy state forever.

* * *

74. Stargazing (Liu Wei/Himuro Tatsuya, 243 wds, K+)

There are so many stars in Akita, it's impossible to count them. You lose track. They're infinite, but in no discernible pattern, just randomly scattered like glitter across a dark cloth. They're both transfixed by this magical sight above them, the type of sky that each of them once only existed in picture books.

Supposedly, there aren't that many stars here. There are other places, places in the countryside, that according to their teammates are way more starry. This, to them, is nothing. This, to them, is a disappointment.

Growing up in the city, most of the lights in the sky turn out to blink and move and are really airplanes. Some of them are so dim that it's impossible to find them again after looking away.

Liu flops down on the grass and pulls Himuro down next to him. He doesn't let go of Himuro's hand. Himuro coughs and Liu whips his head to the side and glares.

"Fukui-sempai told me that it's an ancient Japanese legend that if you count 700 stars you get to make a wish."

The utter gravity with which he says this makes Himuro's heart melt just a tiny bit. "What are you going to wish for?"

This time, Liu doesn't glare. "I don't know."

A few seconds of silence pass. Liu rolls on top of Himuro and pins him to the ground. Why waste time wishing when what you want is right in front of you?

* * *

75. Clouds (Imayoshi Shouichi/Aomine Daiki, 140 wds, T)

Imayoshi joins him on the roof for lunch, lets Aomine steal some of his bento even though he's already eaten the delicious one Sakurai made for him and Imayoshi seems even thinner than usual. Aomine knows the smirk Imayoshi's giving him says "I have half a mind to stop you but I won't because I'm feeling in a generous mood" but he'll take what he can get, which in this case is more rice.

Imayoshi makes a stupid comment about the clouds, which is code for "kiss me, dumbass" and Aomine can't help but oblige. He allows himself a grin because he's actually learning Imayoshi's stupid double-meaning code but then Imayoshi's somehow gotten him pinned to the rooftop and snarls in his ear, "really?" and that could be in response to any number of things so Aomine just gives up.

* * *

76. Irregular Orbit (Hayama Kotarou/Miyaji Kiyoshi, 167 wds, T)

Hayama moves in such a goddamn irregular orbit, circling closely around Miyaji and squealing incoherently one moment and running off who-the-hell-knows-where the next, and Miyaji really can't keep up. He feels like he might be too old for this, but he's not some old geezer. He's got what, a year on Hayama? That's nothing. And he's seriously tried throwing things at Hayama to just get him to keep still but he fucking moves away and giggles like it's some kind of game or something.

Finally, the next time he runs up to Miyaji and hugs him, Miyaji holds him a vice grip to keep him from going anywhere so they can just try and carry on an actual fucking conversation for once. Of course, that backfires and Hayama is blushing madly and spouting nonsense about how caring Miyaji is and how his hugs are so wonderful and it's not a hug, damn it!

It only occurs to him much later that he's fallen right into Hayama's trap.

* * *

77. Untitled (Hanamiya Makoto/Kuroko Tetsuya, 358 wds, T) NOTE: Kiridai!Kuroko

"Whoops. I'm so sorry, Tetsuya-kun. I'm afraid I'm rather clumsy today." The words are hissed in a whisper, for Hanamiya's mouth is inches away from his ear as Hanamiya has landed perfectly on top of Kuroko. Even if Kuroko did not know him, he would be inclined to be suspicious of these words, because no clumsy person would have accidentally fallen against him in such a way to pin Kuroko to the ground between his carefully-placed legs. (As it is, Hanamiya moves so gracefully, befitting his slippery personality. Yamazaki once compared him to an oil slick, and Kuroko finds that this simile works rather well, especially when it comes to certain aspects of Kuroko's relationship with Hanamiya—details of which Kuroko's fairly certain Yamazaki doesn't really want to know about.)

Kuroko sighs and moves his head up a few millimeters, and his ear is closer to Hanamiya's warm breath. (He's not yet too fed up to play Hanamiya's games today. Yet.) The books are scattered all over the floor, and he'd organized them by author, too. (Hara says the only reason Hanamiya trips up Kuroko so often is so he can watch him pick things up, and the way he stares at Kuroko's ass is really creepy. Seto always responds with "It's not creepy if they're going out" but Kuroko doesn't really care because he stares at Hanamiya's ass, too, and all's fair in love and war. Kuroko can't help having misdirection on his side.)

Hanamiya raises a thick eyebrow and meets Kuroko's lips with his. He tastes, as usual, of bitter chocolate and his tongue is so demanding that Kuroko sighs again. Hanamiya sits up, directly on top of Kuroko's groin, and he knows exactly what he's doing, of course.

"You should probably pick up those books," Hanamiya says.

Well, the least Kuroko can do is give him a show while he picks them up. It makes him feel a bit ridiculous, but Hanamiya's flush when he turns around is completely worth it, and so is the deeper, needier kiss he receives a few seconds later, even if his head is pressed up against a metal bookshelf.

* * *

78. What the Hell (Aomine Daiki/Midorima Shintarou, 289 wds, T)

He wakes up to the smell of Aomine's generic laundry detergent all around him; he can't see a damn thing and his arm is trapped under a still-very-much-asleep Aomine so the glasses are not an option right now. His feet are sore from wearing geta all of last night and he's wearing Aomine's clothes, which feel alien on his skin, far softer than he's used to. and a different fit than he likes, even for pajamas. Midorima leans closer into Aomine's face, squinting to try and see more than just a fuzzy outline. His vision's still not perfectly clear, but he can tell Aomine's smiling.

Aomine's eyes flutter open and he jerks backward, banging his head against the headboard. The smile is replaced by a scowl and he roughly pushes Midorima's head away. "What the hell, Shin?"

"I couldn't put on my glasses because someone was sitting on my arm."

Aomine snorts. "You picked me up last night."

"I didn't want to wake you up."

"Well that worked real well, didn't it?"

Midorima huffs and yanks his arm out from under Aomine, finally grabbing his glasses and placing them on his face. He immediately regrets it—how the hell can Aomine look this attractive first thing in the morning with bedhead and stubble and a rumpled shirt?

Of course, Aomine sees right through him, smiles again, and pulls him over to the other side of the bed. "I'm going to get a bruise on my head, so you owe me," he says, pressing his hands down against Midorima's upper thighs. "Plus, you look really hot in my clothes."

Before Midorima can say anything, Aomine's mouth is on his, and shitty morning breath and all he doesn't want to stop.

* * *

79. Fixation (Murasakibara Atsushi/Midorima Shintarou, 140 wds, T)

Murasakibara's attention is easily diverted, but it can sometimes stay fixated on one specific thing for hours at a time—rather like that of a small child. Midorima won't hesitate to say he's childish most of the time (he can't bother to brush the crumbs off his sweater most of the time, or really bother very much at all about his appearance, much to Midorima's chagrin) but in this case, when Murasakibara's fingers are running up and down the rippling muscles of Midorima's arms, he's rather conscious of the fact that neither of them is exactly a child. (Technically, they're minors, but they're definitely on the tail end of adolescence.)

It doesn't seem to be particularly erogenous for Murasakibara—but then he sort of flips a switch and his hands start roaming everywhere, but who even knows with this guy?

* * *

80. Similarities (Aomine Daiki/Wakamatsu Kousuke, 155 wds, T)

Aomine and Wakamatsu don't get it, both looking at Sakurai with an angry but quizzical expression because seriously, who is he to tell them that they're similar? Then they start yelling and Sakurai cringes and hides and covers his ears and Momoi comes and bails him out before he gets too fed up and starts yelling back—but their shouts are the same frequency and are about to shatter his eardrums with their combined intensity. There's no way they can see it.

It's kind of funny, though, how totally in love they are with each other (neither will admit it at this stage of the game, for some misplaced fear of weakness) and for all the subtle touches on arms and glaringly obvious smoldering stares, the most egocentric person Sakurai has ever met, Aomine "the only one who can defeat me is me" Daiki has fallen for someone who's almost exactly like him. It's perfect.

* * *

81. Wine (Aomine Daiki/Midorima Shintarou, 209 wds, T)

Aomine's not a big fan of red wine. It tastes disgusting (pretentious snobs can blab all they want about "citrus notes" but he personally thinks it's bullshit) and drinking two glasses pretty much puts him to sleep. Midorima, on the other hand, drinks it because it's "classy" and "good for your heart". Considering some of the bizarre, tacky "lucky items" Midorima's carried around, he can't really say he's classy, and considering how much he carefully watches what he eats and does all of those ridiculous exercises and has no family history of heart disease, he has nothing to worry about. But then again, it's Midorima.

Aomine should probably be grateful that Midorima lets himself get tipsy from anything because it's so bizarre, so when Midorima brings home a bottle Aomine doesn't roll his eyes too much and has about half a glass while Midorima drinks two and midway through his third he starts giggling and blushing redder than the baseline alcohol-induced flush on his cheeks. He climbs into Aomine's lap (he's really too big for it, all that muscle mass on his already large frame is goddamn heavy) and promptly falls asleep with a sappy smile on his face.

Damn, Midorima's going to be so hungover in the morning.

* * *

82. Tipsy (Aomine Daiki/Midorima Shintarou, 399 wds, M)

Midorima laces his fingers in between Aomine's and grins down at him. Aomine can't help but smile back—Midorima's just buzzed enough to let his affectionate side out. While he's pretty cute sometimes under normal circumstances (the way he pouts and denies the obvious should not look this adorable, especially on someone this tall) there's nothing like the way he positively beams when Aomine squeezes his hand.

His lips, slightly parted and wet from the wine, are tantalizingly close, tantalizingly beautiful, and Aomine leans up and kisses them. Midorima deepens the kiss, eager to take the initiative, and his usual taste of cinnamon gum and clove cigarettes is altered by the strong overtones of sour wine. They break, and Midorima is flushed and his smile is wider. His heart is beating erratically against Aomine's shoulder and he's half-nuzzling Aomine's neck. Aomine's free hand gropes Midorima's ass and Midorima moans and relaxes his body, presses his body even closer against Aomine's and he's hard already, and Aomine doesn't care that they're in the kitchen with the only available surfaces hard granite counters, he just wants to fuck Midorima right then and there.

Midorima's thinking along those lines, sort of jerks his head in the direction of the hallway and starts walking. Aomine follows, indiscreetly watching Midorima's ass (not like he'll notice, and even if he does he's not going to be mad) and is very grateful that Midorima is wearing a shirt right now because he definitely couldn't handle it if he had to deal with those rippling back muscles, too.

Within a few minutes of entering the bedroom, Midorima's a quivering mess, cheeks redder than pomegranates, swollen lips and sweat-slick skin, heavy eyes and gorgeous lashes no longer hidden behind thick glass, firmly toned muscles of his thighs, rock-hard cock pulsing in Aomine's hand. God, he's beautiful;

Even as Aomine lightly touches Midorima's cock, he moans and it's not some type of overblown drama thing (even in his most affectionate stages of drunkenness, Midorima's not prone to hamming it up) and the way his face screws up is so hot that Aomine feels a bit light-headed for a second. Midorima's so close already that this is probably as far as they'll get, a sloppy half-clothed hand job, but Aomine's okay with this. If Midorima keeps moaning and moving his legs like this, he won't have any trouble getting off.

* * *

83. Delight (Kagami Taiga/Takao Kazunari, 193 wds, T)

They stay up late playing video games in the basement on what is technically Takao's sister's PlayStation, fighting games and strategy games and sports games and everything else, and they fall asleep on top of each other, one controller smushed against Kagami's cheek and leaving an imprint that makes Takao giggle, and then he traces it with his finger and Kagami sucks in his breath so fast he almost coughs. Takao's hair is sticking out in all different directions and his hawk eyes are sleepy and his shirt is twisted and Kagami's kind of hungry and Takao's hipbones fit neatly into his hands.

* * *

84. Game (Hanamiya Makoto/Kuroko Tetsuya, 357 wds, T) NOTE: Kiridai!Kuroko

No matter how good you are, you're never perfect. No matter how well your ideas are implemented, there's always room for improvement. The spider web, Hanamiya and Seto's go-to play, works exceedingly well, but they don't win the cup despite executing it perfectly every time. The long offseason drags on, giving Hanamiya ample time to brood and experiment. None of his players are smart enough—but intelligence isn't the only issue. What with the insane, highly specialized skills Hanamiya knows that certain high school basketball players possess, someone here ought to have something. No one has the exact combination of quickness and reach; no one has perfect instinct. He can train them as much as he likes, but those things are innate. They can only be developed so far from nothing.

Then, fate delivers him a gift in the form of one Kuroko Tetsuya. (Like he'd say that, dumbass. He doesn't believe in that shit.) Misdirection is the perfect addition to the spiderweb. It's confusing and it's distracting. Their opponents stumble and fall, diving desperately for the ball and falling awkwardly, spraining a wrist or an ankle, bruising a knee, as it seemingly changes direction in midair. Then, of course, they take Kuroko out and the confusion continues. They don't know where or when or if the ball will change direction, not that they can keep up with Hanamiya and Seto's rapid fire.

They're so far ahead now that they can sub back in the second string. Seto puts his mask back on; Hara adds another stick of gum to his mouth; Yamazaki towels off his neck; Furuhashi chugs half a bottle of water. Kuroko is still standing up, so Hanamiya gropes his ass (after all, it's right there in front of him, perfect and round and if Hanamiya issued him shorts that were a bit too small, well—it was for a good cause, especially because he knows no one will be looking at Tetsuya but him because no one else can see him that well). Kuroko turns around to stare at him, but Hanamiya just smiles.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Tetsuya-kun?"

* * *

85. Determination (Hayakawa Mitsuhiro/Kobori Kouji, 107 wds, K+)

Hayakawa approaches everything with the same kind of fierce determination, from basketball to schoolwork to karaoke, and love is no exception. Kobori had planned to show up ten minutes early to their first date but Hayakawa's there already, and his eyes light up when he sees Kobori and there's none of that stereotypical first-date awkwardness. (Hayakawa wouldn't know awkwardness if it punched him in the gut.) He grabs Kobori's hand and smiles, his whole face turning up in an earnest grin before he starts talking a mile a minute and tugging on Kobori's arm because there's so much to do today and he's so excited about it.

* * *

86. Partake (Mibuchi Reo/Himuro Tatsuya, 210 wds, T)

Tatsuya looks so beautiful sometimes and he doesn't even realize, blinking up from his seat on the couch, slim shoulders draped so perfectly, collarbones jutting out, not a hair out of place. Reo thinks about beauty constantly, studies art and design and fashion and he blows away the most striking models and priceless sculptures. The small flaws, the beauty mark on his face and the small scar on the inside of his wrist that's barely visible unless you're looking closely, only make him more beautiful, the subtle cracks in the ice, the perfect blemishes. His neck is long and graceful and Reo can't help but be more than a little envious—he puts on muscle too quickly and scars way too easily and always has acne on his back and too many discolored spots in his skin that are too light or too dark. He could spend hours critiquing his own physical flaws, but that's pointless when he can bask in the steady glow of this beauty. Tatsuya won't share his beauty with just anyone, gives guarded stares and usually only gives a little at a time. Reo leans over the back of the couch and steals a kiss, grabbing at some of that beauty, and Tatsuya intertwines their hands.

* * *

87. Withdrawal (Nijimura Shuuzou/Aomine Daiki, 200 wds, T)

Nijimura snuffs out Aomine's cigarettes with his bare hands, absently picking at the callouses from the burns until the redness fades but Aomine's guilt is pulsing as brightly as ever. Even when he's at work and Nijimura is halfway across town, he can't bear to light it up anymore, though he won't admit it. Even when he feels like he might actually die from the pain of withdrawal and he can't concentrate because of the rolling in his stomach and the desire that has seized his brain, the force of his guilt overwhelms all of that. Besides, Nijimura holds his head when he pukes and tells him he's a stupid brat who shouldn't kill himself slowly, even as his voice catches in his throat. He's gripping Aomine's short hair so hard his scalp hurts, but Aomine doesn't complain. One of his hands somehow finds Nijimura's through the dizziness, and he doesn't knock it away or tell him to move and that's enough for now. (Nijimura refuses to kiss him afterwards until he brushes his teeth ten times, and for a second Aomine thinks that they could be back in middle school with this exchange—but things have changed too much.)


End file.
